


Drabbles

by TheDevilInHerself



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Loss, Love, Sex, Stalking, Yandere, relationships, tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDevilInHerself/pseuds/TheDevilInHerself
Summary: Just some of my overwatch drabbles that I'm accumulating here.





	1. Control

With the jangle of spurs and soft bubbly laughter, the bed gave way to the weight of the two of you as you and your new boyfriend fell back onto the plush comforter. Straddling the cowboy, you pinned his hands above his head, grinning down at him cheekily as you savored the feel of his bulge against your womanhood. With a growl growing hungrily in the back of his throat, Jesse flashed you that signature cocky grin, challenging and confident.

You knew if he wanted to, he could throw you off of him easily, overpower you with little challenge. But he didn’t want to and that went a long way to turn you on. Tightening your grip on his wrist unnecessarily, you dipped your head down, kissing along his neck, testing his response. Hot breath was exhaled as he tilted his head to the side, allowing you better access. With a light nip at the muscle of his neck, the man let out a soft groan, enticed by the way your breast pressed against him.

“And just what are you going to do with me, sugar?” His drawl was thicker, voice deeper as he watched you with half lidded gaze, heavy with lust.

“Whatever I want.” You hummed, keeping both his wrists pinned under one of your hands as best you could as you worked open the buttons of his shirt, granting yourself access to his barrel of a chest and thick curls of hair. “And you’ll be grateful.” Taking a particularly rough bite at his neck, you enjoyed the way the man rolled his hips up into yours, his erection pronounced.

“Is that so?” Raising a brow at you, the man didn’t seem too convinced. Slipping off his belt, you lashed his arms to the headboard, further strengthening the illusion of control you had over him.

“Yes, cowboy. It is.” Sliding down his body to nestle between his legs, you gave his thighs a rough squeeze before proceeding to slip his zipper down with your teeth. Again, as you lay kisses over the man’s boxers, teasing his erection as it lay prepared to burst from its confines, the man pushed up against you, eager to feel the warmth of your mouth and the depths of your throat.

“That’s what you s-seem to think.” Despite the hitch in his voice as you freed his cock, the man’s confidence never faltered. But you were feeling cocky yourself, kissing at his weeping tip as you watched him hungrily.

“Bless your heart.” Though you didn’t show it, you were surprised at how quickly the cowboy’s demeanor changed. Glaring down at you, the man was not amused by your jab, falling out of the mood as he held your gaze, strong and challenging your control. Without a word, the bulk of his arms tensed, showing just how chiseled and massive his muscles were. It was a show of power and dominance, proof of strength as the thick wood of the headboard began to creek and groan as it gave to his force.

“Down boy.” You snipped, grabbing him roughly by the balls, squeezing just hard enough to catch him off guard as he gasped. Seeing the opportunity, you took the man deep into your throat, pulling a long groan from him before he could protest further or break the headboard. Pain mixed with pleasures as you swallowed around his girth, hand still clutching his balls to roll between your fingers and palm.

The man was quickly worked into a sweat, glistening in his chest hair as his lungs heaved with heavy breath. His displeasure seemed to melt away as you worked him towards his edge, nails digging into his sensitive flesh and tongue doing things to the man he had never experienced before.

“What do you say?” Nipping at the skin of his cock, you grinned up at the cowboy as your finger rubbed teasingly at his puckered asshole. Between pants, the man grinned down at you, still confident, but no where near as challenging as you kept him at the edge of orgasm.

“Thank you, ma’am.”


	2. Soon

Monday through Friday you were usually working late, especially lately with your companies recent growth. It would be well past dark before you managed to stumble into your home, possessing only enough energy to microwave a quick meal, then crawl into bed. Those were the nights that were the hardest. Watching from a distance, lurking in the shadows, ever vigilant for dangers. But on the weekend, those were the nights you left your window open.

Shrouded in darkness, without even the moon to guide his way, Hanzo darted through the shadows, each foot step placed with memory alone. This path was no stranger to him, he had traveled it almost every night, ensuring your safe return home, making sure none dared to harm you. And now you lay snuggled up in your bed, sheets pulled tight around you as your pillow cradled your beautiful face.

The Archer lived for these weekend nights now, when he could be near you, close to you, like he always longed to be. You liked to leave the window of your bedroom open on the weekends, when you didn’t have to worry about forgetting to close it in your early morning rush to work. The soft sounds of the night soothed you to sleep, gave you peace, and allowed Hanzo to crawl through to gain access to you with ease.

In the dark of your room, the man’s trained step went unheard. You were alone tonight, as you were every night. Hanzo made sure of it. You were beautiful, coveted by many, he was sure. But Hanzo would not let any lay hand on you. You were his queen. His only.

Most men were easy enough to scare off, their cowardice showing through the second they were confronted at knife point in a dark alley. Predictable, just a bunch of insects seeking the sweetest fruit. This newest one had been Hanzo’s biggest worry so far.

He didn’t like the look of him. Handsome, suave, charming, Hanzo was sure he was hiding some sinister nature under those good looks and flashy style. The archer had watched you all evening, sure that the man couldn’t be trusted. You had clearly only agreed to keep the man company out of politeness, or maybe even fear. The man must have intimidated you into going out with him. Why else would you be seeing him for the third weekend in a row? Your smile as he held the door for you, your laughter during dinner, the way you let him pull you close as the two of you walked down the street, it was all cause you were scared. Hanzo knew this had to be the case, his beloved was too sweet and good to be seduced by such a cheap and shallow man.

But that didn’t matter now, not after tonight. Once the man had dropped you off at your doorstep, and you were safe in your house, Hanzo made sure that man would never again violate you with his abhorrent presence. And now, under Hanzo’s watchful eye, you were safe.

Standing over your bed, the archer admired the slope of your shoulders, the raise of your collar bone, the subtle hint of cleavage that shown from beneath your cotton night shirt. If he had his way, you would sleep only in the finest of silks and satin. You wouldn’t need to work these long hours either. If he still lead his families empire, you would live like the queen you were.

Two calloused fingers reached out slip your loose nighty off your shoulder and down your arm, revealing more of your supple breast. How he longed to touch you, to feel the softness of your skin and the warmth of your body. What nights he didn’t spend with you were occupied dreaming of the sounds you would make as he slipped into you, the way you would cling to him, a blush painting your cheeks as you were consumed by pleasure. How he longed for the day he could move in you, feel you breath as the two of you were finally joined. Running his fingers over your hair, he found solace in these little moments for now.

“Soon, my queen.” He muttered, memorizing the image of your breast for later use. “Soon we will be together. I just need a little more time to prepare.”


	3. Trouble coping

He was drunk tonight. But then, he was drunk every night now. Beer cans and sake bottles littered the floor of his room, all empty and forgotten for the next drink that would slip him away. You came to him this time, wanting to spare him the embarrassment of staggering the halls and the scolding lectures that would incur in his pursuit of your comfort. He wasn’t as drunk as he had been the night before, not yet any way, but he was still more far gone then you had seen him in all the years you had known him.

Hanzo Shimada did not get drunk. Hanzo Shimada did not lose control. Hanzo Shimada did not cry. The staple of strength and power, he never showed weakness, never lost face. But you didn’t find him as the clan leader, you found him slovenly and drunk, a broken husk of a man as he drank and wept his pain into the night, his only friend now.

You could hear him angrily cursing under his breath when you entered the room, quickly locking the door behind you. His words were cruel and hateful, even more so then was normal for the man, only this time they were aimed at himself. Though over the last five days, you had become acquainted with this side of the man, you couldn’t help but gasp at the state you found him in tonight.

Hands trembling as his tongue spew self destructive poisons, he knelt on the floor, strong arms hacking away violently at his once beautiful hair. Each swipe was so sloppy, so ferocious, you felt your knees grow weak at the idea he might hurt himself in his brash fury.

“Hanzo!!” Shouting, you were to him before he could take another swipe at his head, wrapping yourself around his arm in an attempt to still the blade. His once silky locks lay strewn about the floor, tangling in between your toes as you wrestled to take the knife from him. “Hanzo, stop!” He would not look at you, eyes shut tight and tears streaming thick down his cheeks as he attempted to shake you off of him. But you would not be moved.

With great effort, you pried the knife from his hand and flung it aside, out of reach and out of sight of the man as he continued to drunkenly fight you.

“Leave!” His voice was cruel, so much more so then you had ever heard prier. “I did not call for you. I don’t need you, whore.” Despite his force, there was a tremble in his voice, a tell of his suffering. As he tried to shove you away, you slipped past his arms, straddling him in an attempt to gain some leverage, hoping his drunken state would aid your undertaking.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” As his hands continued to clumsily grab at you, hoping to throw you off of him, you seized his face, forcing him to look at you. “Hanzo! Stop it.”

When they at last met you, his eyes were piercing, unwavering, just as they always were. But there was a wildness in them now, a festering hatred that frightened you more than scolding eyes had before. But despite the rage that blazed like hell fire within his eyes, the man was soon once more overcome, and his eyes weakened, falling downcast on the floor, unable to meet yours. His hair was horrid now, chunks missing as it stuck out in every direction in its mangled state, only adding to the deranged look of the man. Brushing the mess back with your fingers, you cleared his face so that there was nothing to impede your view of his reddened cheeks and swollen eyes.

“You can’t do this to yourself.” Your voice was soft, gentle as you wiped at his tears with your sleeve. His hands now rested weakly on your hips, their tremble not going amiss. “You’re destroying yourself.” Biting his lower lip, the man’s expression was stretched, gaunt, his grief clear and his sorrow more bottomless then even the ocean, and just as tumultuous.

“So what if I am?” He hissed, teeth grinding as he shook with the tension restrained in his torso. “My brother is dead. And at my hands. What right do I have to go on living?” Breath ragged and anger growing as memories tore through him, the clashing sound of metal, the cries of pain, his own brother’s blood warming his hands. Hot tears began to flow again, dripping from his chin to dot the fabric of your dress.

“So your just going to drink yourself to death? Slowly waist away? What will that solve, Hanzo? I know your in pain but yo-“ You were cut off as the man threw you on your back, pinning you to the floor with is weight and his massive hands.

“You know nothing of my pain!” Roaring down at you, his eyes wild and primal, you feared him in that moment. But not for his anger, not for his strength and his rage, but for his pain and his isolation.

Chest heaving, the man pressed against you, hands bruising your wrists in their hold as he bit at the soft flesh of your neck, seeking a false comfort. He took you there on his floor, surrounded by the shredded locks of his hair that, like his sanity, had been so violently torn form him.

It was not pleasant, it was not tender. He ravaged you tonight as he had done every night since the death of his brother. Not out of passion or lust, but in search of distraction. You might as well have been another empty bottle on the floor when he was done. And as he finished, falling heavy upon you in exhaustion and despair, he wept, soft and broken.

You cried as well now. Cried for what remained of the man you held so dear, cried for what his clan, that he had devoted so much to, had made him do, cried for the loss of the only person Hanzo had probably ever loved. When his hands released you, you did not push him away, but instead held him close, rubbing your hands along the tense muscles of his back as you whispered soft words of comfort in his ear. They did not reach him, but the sensation of your palms easing his strain, and your warmth soaking through him served to keep him tethered to reality, at least enough to keep the man with you.

You didn’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, must have been at least an hour, but as darkness overtook the room, and the sounds of night slowly set in, your master at last stirred. Sitting up in sore and troubled movements, the man’s head hung low, weariness and shame heavying his eyes so that they were cast upon the floor. Raising yourself up, you tried to ignore the pain in your neck left by the bitemarks, as well as the ache in your hips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Running your fingers through his butchered hair, you offered up kind eyes that went unnoticed. “I’ll draw up a bath, and then I can cut your hair properly. A new look might be good for you.” Still no reply as the man isolated himself in his grief.

Your heart trembled at the emptiness that sat before you, just a husk of the once proud and noble man. Yet still, you helped him to the bathroom, where you trimmed him up the best you could, and lowered him into a warm bath. You slept with him that night, a decision Hanzo never would have approved of, but you didn’t care about his approval at the moment. Indeed, you decided that a great many more nights would be spent like this, until this man that you loved so much had a chance to heal. Till he could again be strong. Till he was able to forgive himself.


	4. Young and Free

A quick climb and an easy jump and he was over the fence and onto the streets bellow, the shadows of the trees hiding him in the night as he straightened. It was easy enough to get out of the castle unnoticed, at least, if you knew it by heart. With a stylish jacket and jeans that he had ‘borrowed’ from his brother, and a pair of dark sunglasses, the young man soon faded into the night, becoming just another youth walking the streets of Hanamura after hours. 

He wasn’t sneaking out per say, his father knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing, but it still afforded him a small sense of freedom, of liberation from his duties and the heavy demands of the Shimada clan, and his father understood that. Hanzo was responsible, hardworking and dedicated, meeting every unreasonable expectation put in place by his clan and surpassing all standards, that’s why his father had agreed to these little secret outings, keeping them from the clan elders, and allowing Hanzo these small moments of youth. 

His destination was not far from the castle. An apartment building in one of the seedier areas of town, fourth floor, third window on the left side. He got there without any trouble, despite his disguise, most people who saw him could tell he was associated with the great criminal empire and knew better then to cross him so close to the castle. He didn’t bother with the front door, never had, instead climbing the brick work on the buildings side to get to the open window.

Despite the darkness of the room, Hanzo knew by heart the location of every piece of furniture, ever rug, every wall hanging, and easily made his way to his destination through the one bedroom apartment. You were curled up in bed, just as you always were, asleep and dreaming peacefully, probably of that weekend trip you always talked about taking. Hanzo waisted no time taking off his shoes and slipping into bed with you, pulling the cheep cotton sheets over the two of you with a dissatisfied grimace, reminding himself to leave you money for better bedding. 

You didn’t stir, a heavy sleeper as always, even as the man wriggled closer to you on the decrepit bed. It wasn’t till his arms wrapped around you, his mouth finding the slope of your neck with soft but insistent kisses, that you violently tensed, a gasp seizing from you.

“Han?” The alarm in you voice and the sudden quickening of your pulse was cute to the man. So defenseless, so helpless to his whim. Nothing like the strong and influential women of the castle. 

“I’m here.” He assured, arms tightening around you as he continued to take small nips further up the skin of your neck.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you relaxed in his hold, easing back against him as you tilted your head to allow him better access. Shifting under the covers, your hands came to lay atop his, thumb rubbing gentle circles over his calloused flesh. Would you still touch him so gently, he wondered, if you knew how many men those hands had killed, or would you look at them with fear.

You knew nothing of who he was outside of this room, Hanzo had worked hard to keep it that way. You thought he was just a normal Japanese youth, working his way up in a big company to make his parents proud. In truth, you didn’t even know his full name, calling him only by the abbreviated form he had given you, something any other woman would have been killed for doing. But Hanzo liked it this way. Here, in this apartment, it was his own little get away. The one place where he could be nothing more than a man, seeking the comfort of a woman.

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Don’t you have work early in the morning?” Bringing your hand up to run through his silky locks, you savored the feeling of his warmth against your back, and his strong, protective arms enveloping you. 

“I have the morning off. Besides, I wanted to see you.” His hands began to wonder as the words were breathed into your neck, palms finding the summit of your breast and the curve of your hip as they began to wander beneath your sleep wear.

“That employee still causing you trouble? I don’t know why you don’t fire him.” Still a bit hazy, you leaned into his touch, letting him find his comfort in you, just as you always had. Briefly he wondered what you thought of these little meetings. If you saw them as just occasional romps of pleasure, or if to you, this was a committed relationship.

Hanzo himself chose not to define it, wanting it just to be. It was easier that way. He couldn’t afford to get attached. There was no future for the great heir of the Shimada clan and a struggling young girl, not in any capacity. 

“I don’t want to think about him.” Fingers fumbling with the lace of your panties, the man stroked your familiar sex, savoring how responsive you were tonight as you let out a soft moan. “Already so wet? Were you playing with yourself before bed again?” Despite that flush that overtook your face, you responded in kind, rolling your hips back against his growing arousal, enjoying the way it twitched in his tight jeans. 

“I was thinking about you.” Hanzo wasn’t sure if he believed you, but he liked to. 

Slipping his hand past your underwear, two thick fingers pushed into your already eager warmth, your startled moan filling the room and encouraging the young man to press in further. Growling his satisfaction at your responsiveness, Hanzo sucked small bruises into your neck, marking you where the last ones had faded away. As his fingers continued to explore you, lazily pushing in and out as they stroked your walls, his palm pressed against the front of your pelvis, pushing you back as he ground his hardened cock against your backside. 

“Han.” You moaned, only spurring the man on as he desperately sought his friction against you. “You’re such a tease.” Despite this, your fingers tangled in his hair, lightly pressing him against your neck as you submissively asked for more.

“Would you rather I make it quick?” adding a third finger, Hanzo savored the way you gasped, squirming in your pleasure as he growled in your ear. “Fuck you and then leave while my cum still drips from your used pussy.”

“Han.” Whether your embarrassment or your arousal, your face shown bright red, moans slipping free with your panting, his fingers feverishly worked you into a frenzy. 

“Is that what you want? Just a quick fuck?” Arching against him, your body trembled as the young man drove you wild, stealing the breath from you as he captured your lips in a heart stopping kiss.

“Yes- I mean, no- I- Han, stay. Please.” Incoherent and rambling, you lost control as the man held you at the edge of orgasm, hungry for more as his cock pressed promisingly against your ass and his fingers stirred you up. 

“Very well.” Pulling free of you, the man was quick to shed his jacket, yanking at his overly tight pants as he eagerly prepared himself for what was to be a long and exhausting night. “Get on your stomach. Ass up. I want to fuck you into this mattress till it breaks.”


	5. This Means War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little piece inspired by Marianas Trench song This Means War. I just love them and their music always strikes a cord with me. So I popped out this little drabble to the tune of their song.

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat, glaring at the man that stood in your door way.

“Can I come in?” Hanzo’s snitty tone came across as more of an order then a request, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Stepping over, you put all your weight on the door, attempting to slam it shut on the man, but unable to before the man shoved his way through, taking no heed to your anger.

“Get the fuck out.” You barked, pulling out your phone to call the cops only for the man to snatch it from you, throwing it to the other side of the room.

“Still as disrespectful as always.” Folding his arms across his broad, powerful chest, his tight-fitting shirt left nothing to the imagination.

“A bastard like you doesn’t deserve any respect.” You snapped, hands on your hips as you met the man’s seething gaze with equal measure.

“You know what I do to women who dare talk to me like that?” Taking a step forward, the man’s straight back helped emphasize just how much taller he was then you, not to mention how his bulk overshadow you as you took a step forward to meet him.

“Make them date you?” you jabbed your finger into his chest, refusing to back down, so many raw emotions consuming you to the point your self preservation was drowned out. “Worst torcher I’ve ever had.”

“You were so lucky. A mouthy bitch like you will never find a man. Who would want a bitter woman whose so used up at such a young age.” His eyes were fierce, burning into you and burrowing their way into your core as the man shook up every part of you that no one else could reach.

“My boyfriends coming over soon. He’s going to kick your ass if he finds you here.” It was a lie, and both of you knew it. You didn’t have a boyfriend, hadn’t for some time.

“You honestly expect me to believe some man wants a piece of that used up cunt-“ Your hand struck his cheek before he could react, leaving a red mark as you put everything you had into the strike. Without missing a beat, Hanzo responded in kind, the back of his hand hitting you with so much force your legs gave out, making your crumple to the floor.

“Violent bitch. It’s been, what? Half a year, and you still haven’t changed.” But just as ever, you came up swinging, fist slamming into his unguarded gut as you cursed.

“Fucking bastard!” Things quickly escaladed from there, the two of you exchanging blows and vulgarities as you tussled, bruises and claw marks quickly covering flesh. Your furies were matched, feeding off each other as you spiraled into violent chaos that ended only when Hanzo finally managed to throw you against the wall, knocking the wind out of you before pinning you.

“Get the fuck out of my house you fucking phyco!” You screamed when you finally managed to regain your breath. With a snarl, the man pulled you off the wall only to slam you back against it, doing this repeatedly till the fight was at last knocked out of you. As you slumped against the wall, supported only by the man’s thick body that held you in place, he also felt his exhaustion, muscles going limp as he leaned against you to keep upright.

Head falling into the crook of your neck, you could feel his ragged breath, hot against your skin, chest rumbling with the effort of filling his heaving lungs. You weren’t fairing much better, sweaty and sore as your head buzzed from the rush and the trauma of the many blows you had taken. You could already feel a headache coming on, powerful and blinding, the kind only Hanzo could give you. 

“I’ve missed this.” He admitted, words mumbled into your shoulder. It was toxic, explosive and violent, but at least he felt something. The rest of his life was numbing enough, at least here he knew he could still find something that made him feel alive. With all the anger and rage and hatred you brought out of him, at least he knew you still cared, that seeing him here, now, meant something to you. He’d take this over politeness, reminiscing, acting like nothing ever happened between you. Not when you meant so much more to him then that.

“Sick bastard.” You spat, though without the fury that had previously blazed inside you. “What are you, some kind of masochist? Perverted fuck.” But as the man gave no response, and your panting exhalations subsided into calm shallow breaths, a knot grew around your heart. “I’m moving away anyway. Going to school in the country.” Your confession surprised you, though only you. You hadn’t even told your friends yet.

“Don’t.” Was the only response the man gave, still resting in the crook of your shoulder to hide his face from you as his bulk kept you pinned, not that you struggled. The two of you remained in silence for a minute or two, your eyes lingering on the man as you studied him, unable to get a read on him, like always.

“Fine,” You snipped, acting put out as you attempted to hide the small grin that pulled your lips. Despite it all, the distance, the bitterness, the months of silence, he still wanted you near, still needed you here. “Needy bastard.”

His lips were mashed against yours before you could mutter anything else, the taste of copper from his split lip flooding your mouth as the kiss turned hungry, tongues tangling in a new battle. With renewed energy, the man pressed against you, hands moving to explore your estranged body as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, supporting yourself.

This time it was your clothes Hanzo was violent with, quickly tearing at them in his eagerness to have your flesh for his own, you doing the same to him. It always ended like this. The two of you could never get enough of the other, never quit this addiction. And you honestly couldn’t say you ever wanted to try.


	6. Shorts

“Han-“ Doing your best to bite back your moans, you clutched weakly at the mans basketball shorts, inadvertently sliding them down his hips in the process. “We really shouldn’t.”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn those short.” The archer growled, pulling at your shirt till he was free to suck at your collarbone.

You knew your favorite gym short had a power over them man, but you hadn’t thought it this overwhelming. You had noticed the man eyeing you from across the gym, hungrily consuming you with his gaze and his thoughts. With every lift of his weight, every curl of his bicep, he stared at you intently, as if trying to seduce you in turn.

You didn’t miss the way he flexed whenever your eyes met, or when he ‘casually’ slipped his shirt off, revealing his glistening muscles. His form was impressive, and he knew it. And more over, he knew that you knew it. At every chance you caught him showing off. Doing his best to woo you. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t working.

A particularly sharp cry broke free as Hanzo’s hand slipped down your ass, sliding between your legs so his fingers could press against the crotch of your pants. Pulling his hips closer on instinct, you shivered at the satisfactory growl he gave. As his teeth nipped against your flesh, leaving small red trails, the man became more insistent, his hunger growing.

“Han-ah!” Your protest was interrupted as the man seized a fist full of your hair, jerking your head back so his teeth could drag down your throat.

“If you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have seduced me so openly.” Gripping your leg just behind the knee, he raised it to wrap around his hip, grinding his growing need against you. “You were practically begging me to take you.” You gasped as he yanked your shirt up, his flesh slick and warm against yours. You could feel his taunt muscles move against yours, so powerful as they pinned you against the wall.

“It’s not like that.” You muttered, protest weak as your body grew hotter and hotter.

“Bullshit.” He growled, bucking his hips up into you. When had the air gotten so hot and humid? Why was your mind so cloudy? “This was the outcome you desired from the start.” Fingers rubbing feverishly at your clothed entrance, he sucked the very air from your lungs with his kiss, mouth eating away at yours in an attempt to consume you.

“Han-“ Your final protest was less than halfhearted.

“I’m done talking.” Yanking at the waist band of your shorts, his pants were already half way off, erection half free from his boxers. “I will take what is mine.”

Light flooded the small space, blinding the two of you as your blinked against its harshness. You gave out a small yelp, pressing yourself against the wall and as far away from Hanzo as you could, as little space as that was.

Lucio stared blankly at the two of you, words failing him as the sight of the two of you of you stuffed into the tiny broom closet defied his expectations. The three of you remained in silence for several minutes before Lucio finally spoke.

“I just needed the mop.” Pointing to the cleaning supplies behind the two of you, both of you looked back, as if surprised to see it there. “But I think your going to need it more.” With nothing else to say, he shut the door, once more enveloping the two of you in darkness.


	7. Suport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dark content. Spoilers= Rape, noncon, dubcon, force, choking

“Another win.” Hana cheered, pumping her fist forward in celebration. Continuing down the call, she started another round on her portable game. 

It wasn’t often she visited the overwatch base, but when she did, she always made a point of visiting her favorite overwatch agent. This was the closest thing she got to a vacation, and she was looking to take full advantage of it. Video games, junk food, and bad sifi were just a few of the plans she had for tonight.

Finding herself in front of your door, she slid her game into her pocket, pulling her headphones off just as she swung the door open. The room was dark, meaning Hana heard you before she saw you. But once her eyes adjusted, she couldn’t help but gasp. 

You were sprawled out across the bed belly down, feet tangled in the sheets as you gasped against the leather that constricted your throat. Unaware of the onlooker, the rugged looking man continued to pound into you, one hand pinning your arm across your back while the other was high in the air, holding the leather belt that wrapped around your neck taunt as it pulled you back. Hana recognized the man from some of her previous visits. The cowboy. 

Choked sounds escaped you, face furiously red as your free hand clutched at the sheets. Noticing the flash of, your glossy eyes found your friend. Her face matched your own in both surprise and color. As best you could, you waved franticly at her, only abandoning the gesture when unable to keep all your weight from pressing you into the belt.

“Fuck!” Hana exclaimed, finally earning the cowboy’s attention. “I’m so sorry.” Before the man could say anything, she stepped back, slamming the door shut. Even with the barrier between you, she could still hear the sounds of your love making. Covering her face, her mind reeled at what she had just seen. But as the seconds passed, she found herself laughing, the sound awkward, but still amused. “I’ll come back later. You two have fun.” She called through the door, a pleased smile painting her lips as she turned to walk away. 

She was happy for you. At least someone was getting some. Pulling out her phone, she couldn’t help herself. “Wait till Lucio hears about this.”

On the other side of the door, McCree chuckled at the youth’s words of encouragement. His hips hadn’t stilled, but had slowed at the unexpected interruption. With a temporary break from his tenacity, he leaned forward, pulling you back to him by the belt till your spine hurt and your throat closed.

“Hear that darlin’? She want’s us to have fun.” Nuzzling into your hair with a sweetness one would expect from the flirt, the cowboy slowly rolled his hips into you, enjoying the change in sensation. “Told you everyone thought we were good for each other. I’ll make you see. I’ll show you how much I love you.” Hand franticly trying to support enough of your weight to take the pressure off your throat, your words were gargled, protest unintelligible as your mind began to fuzz and fade. “You’re mine now, sugar cube.” As his hips picked back up, finding his pleasure in your tight cunt, tears, hot and fresh, spilled down your cheeks.


	8. Professor Shimada

So a friend of mine had a suggestion for a college professor au where reader has the hots for him and messes up her grades on purpose just so she can blow him to make it better. And since it’s me, even though I’m super buisy, I had to do something. So here is this. 

All class you had been ogling your professor, not so discreetly either. But as you begin to pack up at the end of class, he calls out to you.

“Y/n, I would like to speak with you.”

Confused, you stay behind, waving goodbye to your friends as you walk down the stairs. After everyone has left, he pulls out a folder with your name on it.

“Care to explain these grades?”

You try to play dumb as he pulls out your last two tests and an essay. All with failing grades.

“I’ve really been struggling with the material lately.” Leaning on his desk, you were grateful you had worn your favorite top that day. The one that fit just right. “I could really use some ‘private’ tutoring.” You gave him your best seductive side eye only to be met with stern eyes and a frown.

“You are a star student and have had no trouble up till now. Do you really expect me to believe you so suddenly lost your smarts?” As he turned his chair towards you, it was all you could do not to undress him with your eyes. “At this rate you will fail the class.”

“Oh, professor. Surely there is something 'else’ I can do to get my grades back up.” Leaning over, your hand slid it’s way up his thigh, offering up a squeeze just before it reached his crotch. His eyes studied your hand for a moment, brow raised as he slowly turned his attention to your playful grin, then your lewd gaze.

“"Miss y/ln. I hope you realize what you are implying is both highly unethical, as well as grounds for expulsion.” Startled by the fierceness of his gaze and his stern words, you pulled back, straightening as you tried to recover.

“I, uh-”

“If you earn an A in my class, it will be based on your merit. And nothing else.” You flushed a bright red, stammering as you attempted to save face. But in one quick movement, and without him leaving his seat, you found Mr. Shimada’s hand on the back of your neck. With a strong tug, you were pulled to your knees between his now spread legs, eyes wide as you looked up at him. “If you wanted something else, you should have just asked.”

“Lick it.” He commanded as he pulled out his stiffening cock. You were eager to oblige, nuzzling up against his thigh as your tongue encouraged him to full erection. With impressive enthusiasm, you worshiped him, grateful for every taste you got.

Watching him as you worked, he seemed pleased, humming his approval as you took the head in your mouth to twirl your tongue around. He was thick in your mouth, your pleasure indicated with a hum as you attempted to take him deeper. But much to your surprise, he pulled you back by a fist full of hair.

Your protest was interrupted as his cock slapped across your face. Warm and throbbing it lay across your cheek, evidently giving the man great satisfaction and pride at seeing its size against your smaller build.

“I have a class starting in five minutes, so we will have to make this quick.” He instructed, thumb briefly rubbing over your bottom lip as he studied it’s shape.

“Ok, Daddy.” You smiled, slipping his thumb just past your lips to tease with your tongue. “Can I call you Daddy?”

His eyes widened for a moment, but his action was answer enough. Again, grabbing a fist full of your hair, he pulled you back before stuffing your mouth full of his cock. His hand was more of a guide as you bobbed up and down on his length, occasionally changing angles as you pulled pleasured groans from the man. Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, he focused on the electrifying ecstasy that you brought him, letting it consume him. You used every last skill and trick you had to bring him to his end with speed. So right as the first few students started knocking on the lecture room door, he curled around you, hands pushing you down on his cock as his cum spurted into your throat, warm and sweet. His groans were muffled by his hand as he trembled and shook, body consumed by the pleasures of orgasm that blinded him.

When finally he came down, he was quick to release you. You gasped for much needed air, cheeks flushed as you watched him. He seemed softer basking in the glow of pleasure, hazy and vulnerable as he slumped in his chair. But it didn’t last.

“Get under the desk.” He instructed, tucking himself away before straightening his disheveled appearance. “Be good during this class, and it will be your turn afterwards.” Excited at the prospect, you were quick to scurry under the desk, taking your bag with you as he went to unlock the door.

The next three hours were spent with him rubbing the tip of his shiny shoe over your clothed womanhood, keeping you teetering on the edge as you listened to his deep, commanding voice above you. Like everything Mr. Shimada gave out, he was going to make sure you earned it.


	9. War Time

You were warm in his arms, soft and sweet smelling as you slept. With his arms wrapped around you, Hanzo could feel your chest slowly expand with your rhythmic breathing. Listening to the soft cooing sounds of your sleep, he felt a deep sense of peace. He had never dreamed he could be this happy. That he would be so blessed to be loved by someone like you.

Kissing behind your ear, he whispered soft words of affection that his pride kept silent while you were awake. Every day he tried to tell you what you meant to him, how much he needed you, how you made him whole and content. But his fears still had a hold on him. If he never said them aloud, if he never admitted them, even to himself, then he could convince himself it didn’t matter if you left him.

Slipping his hand into yours, he smiled softly at the way your fingers instinctively closed around him. Feeling a sense of boldness, he held you tight, breathing into your ear as you stirred softly.

“I love you.” Eyes peaking open, your smile was gentle as you regarded him with warm affections.

Hanzo’s eyes flashed wide open as a bomb went off within a few blocks of him, waking him before he could hear your answer. The sounds of gunfire sounded off somewhere in the city, men shouting and women screaming, children crying.

As his senses came back to him, Hanzo became aware of the way his hands intertwined with each other, holding on to one another to explain the warmth he had felt moments ago. Remembering his predicament, his heart sunk in his chest. Sliding his hands apart, he covered his face as he curled in on himself, crying silently in the night.

 

~ The other night dear, as I lay sleeping  
~I dreamed I held you in my arms  
~When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken  
~So I bowed my head and I cried


End file.
